


The Yule Ball

by PenguinofProse



Series: Penguin's festive fics [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke and Emori and Echo are dorm mates, F/M, Fluff, Hogwarts AU, Yule Ball, as they should be, festive fluff, light insecure teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinofProse/pseuds/PenguinofProse
Summary: Bellarke Hogwarts AU. Clarke frets about getting a date, and it all turns out fluffy.
Relationships: Background Wellabriel and Memori and Echope, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Series: Penguin's festive fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2024797
Comments: 20
Kudos: 134





	The Yule Ball

**Author's Note:**

> Here's another festive Hogwarts AU. I think I might be done with these now. Really. Or at least, I'm out of festive Hogwarts AU prompts so... Happy reading!

Clarke is happy for Wells.

Really, she is. She's a good best friend like that – she's glad of his joy. But if he mentions one more time that Gabriel Santiago has asked him to the Yule Ball, she swears she will scream.

It's not Wells' fault – or Gabriel's – that Clarke has not got a date, of course. But she can't help but feel it would be tasteful if her friend was less ostentatious in his joy.

"You know he said he'd been wanting to ask me out for ages." Wells pipes up, now.

Clarke sighs loudly through her nose. "Great. Good for you. I can't wait for you to start stealing his stupid cardigans."

"Hey! You said you thought he had _taste_."

She does think he has taste, as it happens. He's asked out her best friend, hasn't he? But she thinks that a cardigan can be both tasteful and _stupid_ at the same time.

No. She's being ridiculous. She's better than this – a Slytherin, and the queen of cool, calm logic to boot.

"You're right. He has great taste. I hope you have a lovely time together."

With that, she flees. She likes to think she's not a coward, in most respects. But feelings have always had a funny way of making her want to run.

…...

It's complicated. That's the problem. It's not that she doesn't have a date for the Yule Ball because there's no one she wants to ask. There is someone she wants to ask _very much_ – her other best friend, Bellamy.

Huh. It doesn't sound so complicated, put like that. But it _is_ complicated, honestly it is.

The thing is that Bellamy is a different kind of best friend. She's been best friends with Wells since she was a small child, and will openly talk to him about anything including the state of her heart. If she had a crush on Wells, she thinks she'd happily walk right up to him and tell him about it.

Well, maybe not _happily_. But she'd be prepared to give it a go.

Her friendship with Bellamy isn't like that in the slightest. The were rivals, at first, and fiercely antagonistic. And that only changed back in fourth year, when the pair of them together took the lead in fighting off a small band of rogue outdated Death Eaters who had decided to attack Hogsmeade on a weekend when it was full of students. That's the kind of thing a pair of teenagers cannot go through without bonding somewhat, it turns out, and they've been inseparable ever since.

It's not like her friendship with Wells, though. It's still marked by the teasing and bickering that characterised their early relationship, only now they pester each other affectionately. And they are there for each other on an emotional level – Clarke has listened to Bellamy stew in guilt about his mother's death more than once, and he is often there to help her through a crisis of self worth. But they don't talk about their feelings for _each other_. Clarke has never even heard him acknowledge out loud that they're best friends, even though they spend almost all their free time together.

So it _is_ complicated, see? She cannot risk ruining a friendship Bellamy cannot even bring himself to acknowledge. Better to have half of his affection than nothing at all. And on top of that, she feels like there's more pressure, this year. She's a seventh year, and this is her last Yule Ball, her last chance for a fairytale happy ending.

She can't bear to get that wrong.

So that's why she does nothing. That's why she keeps studying with Bellamy, and trying not to stare at his lips. That's why she keeps chatting with Wells, and waving when she sees him wandering about the castle with Gabriel.

That's why she keeps to herself, because loneliness can never let her down.

…...

It gets ridiculous, as December lengthens. Her roommates get dates – Echo with Hope Diyoza, Emori with John Murphy. And Clarke goes from feeling bad to worse, because no one asks her out _at all_. It's not even that Bellamy doesn't ask her. There is literally no one in this entire goddamn castle who is interested in her – even as the number of available partners dwindles and people start getting desperate. And of course, she knows she has every right to go ask someone herself – but there's only one person she wants to ask and, again, she's convinced he's not interested. It's the only logical explanation for his overall pattern of behaviour, she concludes.

She tries to put a brave face on it.

"I'm happy for you." She tells Echo, who is dancing through the dorm on cloud nine. Clarke thinks she's never seen her usually stern-faced friend look so exuberantly joyful.

"No you're not." Emori says, not unkindly. "Seriously, what's up with you?"

Clarke swallows. Have her friends not even noticed that no one wants her? This is just embarrassing on so many levels. She hates the social minefield of friendships and relationships, sometimes. She's an intelligent young woman who has fought off Death Eaters and is acing her Potions NEWT. Why can't she get this right, too?

"I don't have a date." She mutters, keeping her face carefully blank.

Echo snorts. "Yeah, you do."

"I think I would know if -"

"So explain to me why Bellamy told Bree he was going with you?" Echo challenges, sharp. "She swears that's exactly what he said when she asked him. I guessed you had your reasons for not telling us."

Clarke gapes at her, stunned. Again, she hates how emotions can take her by surprise like this. Potions and even duelling are much more predictable.

"He must have been looking for an excuse. He hasn't said anything to me." She admits, feeling small.

Emori smiles sadly. Echo nods. Silence sits for a moment.

"Maybe he hasn't got round to it yet?" Echo suggests.

Clarke laughs a hollow laugh. Date or not, she has some great friends, here. Echo must really love her to consider quitting the habit of a lifetime and giving up honesty, just for those few seconds, to protect her feelings with that kind lie.

…...

She doesn't mention it to Bellamy in the library the next day. She cannot bear to. She simply sets out with their usual teasing and lightness in full force. Apart from anything else, she thinks he looks in need of a little teasing. She's rarely seen such a tense set to his jaw.

"You OK? You look like you're about to hex me." She offers lightly, sitting down. "Or maybe feed me to the Grindylows."

He starts, frowns at her hard. "Like I'd feed my best friend to a Grindylow." He says, and he sounds annoyed at the mere idea of it.

She freezes, butt half way into her chair, hovering in midair like a fool. _Best friend_? Did he just say _best friend_?

She ought to rejoice at hearing that. She's been waiting a good couple of years now for him to acknowledge that their relationship is special. But she can't rejoice, this afternoon. Not the day after the night before, when Echo told her that odd rumour about him claiming her as his Yule Ball date. Because this just calls that out as a lie, doesn't it? The way he's confidently calling her his best friend screams strictly platonic feelings, as far as she can tell.

She gathers the shreds of her composure, sits down in the chair as calmly as she can manage.

"Best friend?" She prompts, tone carefully teasing.

"Yeah. Obviously." He mutters, eyes fixed very carefully on a set of Potions notes she knows for a fact are irrelevant to today's homework.

"You're my best friend too." She tells him easily, kicking him lightly with her toes under the table. As long as she does that, he won't notice that her eyes are brimming with tears, right? He won't notice that she has gone and got stupidly irrationally upset over him having only friendly feelings towards her.

Ugh. She's so frustrated with herself. She ought to be better at handling her emotions than this. She could swear she _is_ better at it than this, so long as Bellamy isn't involved.

She follows Bellamy's lead, stares in silence at a set of notes she doesn't much need to stare at. This is horrible, and she hates it. The air is thick with awkwardness, and she's trying not to cry openly, and this is not the atmosphere she expected from her and Bellamy finally talking about the depth of their friendship.

She's surprised to find him moving. Suddenly, he's standing up, circling the table, settling into a chair at her side, instead. And then, of all things, he's reaching out to pull her into a hug.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" He murmurs, kinder and softer than she deserves.

She shakes her head, scatters stupid tears over his stupidly attractive shoulders. She can't tell him this, and she hates it. She hates how dysfunctional it is, that she'd happily tell him anything about grieving her father or the state of her self esteem, but she can't tell him the first thing about how she feels in this moment.

He doesn't mean to hurt her. That's what she clings to, while she fists her hands in his shirt. He doesn't mean to love her differently from the way she loves him.

That's just life.

She pulls away from the hug first. She knows she should. She pulls away, leans back in her chair, makes a great show of getting her books out.

"I'm OK. Thanks. I'm fine." She tells him, unrolling a parchment and picking up a quill.

It's an implicit invitation to leave her alone. To go back to his usual side of their usual table, pick up with their usual teasing banter, and lead this back into the territory of a vaguely normal study session.

But he does no such thing. He spends the rest of the afternoon sitting at her side, thigh pressed against her thigh, shooting little concerned glances at her when he thinks she's not looking.

He's a great best friend – caring and kind and fun, too. And if she repeats that to herself often enough, maybe she will learn to be satisfied.

…...

When Clarke shows up in the library as usual the following afternoon, Bellamy looks even more tense.

She knows better than to make a joke about Grindylows, this time. And to be honest she doesn't much fancy making a joke about Grindylows anyway. She's had a rough day, with the lingering tearfulness of yesterday and the stress of NEWTs tangling together with the fact that the Yule Ball is now just a week away.

She knows it's a stupid thing to worry about. She should just concentrate on her NEWTs. This kind of emotional foolishness is not befitting of a future healer.

But she wants the Yule Ball experience, damn it. She wants to be a normal teenage girl for one night of her life, obsessed with romance and fairy lights rather than homework and healing practice. She wants to wear the beautiful blue dress she now feels like a fool for buying, and wants to feel like a princess, just for a little while.

She grits her teeth, gathers her wits. She ought to be kind to Bellamy – he was kind to her, last night.

"You want to tell me what's wrong?" She asks softly, as she takes a seat.

He frowns. Well, then. It looks like they're both keeping secrets. She sighs in resignation, gets out her Transfiguration homework and makes a start.

She's been at it a good three minutes when Bellamy speaks up.

"I'm sorry. I want to tell you but everything feels weird with us lately."

She nods heavily. "I know. I'm sorry."

He sighs a loud sigh. He breathes in a loud breath. He swallows a loud swallow. Clarke loses patience, is on the point of yelling in the middle of the quiet library that he ought to just say whatever he wants to say.

He gets there in the end.

"There's something I want to do but I'm worried it might ruin our friendship." He mutters. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't lose me." She assures him fiercely. What on Earth can he have in mind? Is he planning to move to the other side of the world, or something? Owl post exists. Portkeys are a thing. They'd be fine.

Their friendship is made from stronger stuff than that.

"Are you sure?" He prods, eyes nervous. "It's – it's kind of a big thing."

"Whatever it is, we'll be OK. You're too important to me to let whatever this is ruin _anything_."

He nods. Another sigh, breath, swallow. His jaw works.

"Bellamy -"

"Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" He gets the words out in a rush.

"Yes." She says simply, because obviously she will.

He blinks, looking slightly stunned. "That's it? Yes? You know I mean as – as not just friends?"

At last, she allows herself to break into a broad smile. "Even better. Yeah. I'd – I'd really like that."

"You would? Great."

"Great."

They both sit there for a moment, on their opposite sides of the table, grinning stupidly happy grins. Clarke can rather understand why Bellamy has seemed so tense of late, now. And she can understand why he said what he said to Bree. Suddenly, everything makes perfect sense. She's aware she had the pieces of this particular logic puzzle all in front of her before, but it's not as simple as that, is it? She may be the most confident student in the school, but that doesn't mean she backs herself in situations like this.

She smirks to herself slightly, decides to try something.

"You know, Bellamy, there's something I've been wanting to do, but I don't want to ruin our friendship."

"Oh yeah?" He prompts, grinning, leaning in a little as if preparing for a good bickering match.

Hah. Sucks to be him. She has other plans.

She leans across the table herself, presses her lips to his in a slightly overzealous kiss. She can worry about technique and tidiness another time, she figures. But she wants this first kiss to be about the joy fizzing in her veins, about her overwhelming affection for this guy, about her excitement at the thought of being _not just friends_ with him.

He's at least as eager as he kisses her back, messy and uncoordinated as they're both smiling too wide. But despite all that it's a good kiss – full of passion and personality, and all the good things that characterise their relationship.

She pulls back first. Stretching across a table isn't the most comfortable way to make out with someone, it turns out.

"Is this for real?" Bellamy asks, happiness practically rolling off him in waves.

"I hope so." Clarke answers, reaching out to take his hand. She knows that's maybe a bit clingy, maybe too eager at this stage. But she's always had a thing for his hands so she figures it's excusable.

Bellamy seems to think it's excusable, too. He even seems to think it's _good_ , in fact, as he tangles his fingers with hers and squeezes gently.

"Do you maybe want to hang out some time before the Yule Ball too?" He asks hopefully.

She rolls her eyes affectionately, squeezes his hand again. "Bellamy. We already hang out all the time."

"You know I didn't just mean _hang out_." He mumbles, somewhere between grinning and grimacing and flushing.

She laughs. "You're right. We're hopeless at this. Do you want to date me or not?"

That has him laughing, too, so loudly that a Ravenclaw three tables over glances their way with a frown. Clarke concentrates on that, very carefully, rather than allowing herself to be affected by the tension of waiting for Bellamy to answer the question. Logically, she knows exactly what he will say. There's no way he wants to kiss his best friend and take her to the Yule Ball as _not just friends_ without it meaning he's interested in dating.

But again, it seems that this is one area where logic and feelings do not coincide.

"Of course I want to date you. I've been wanting to date you for _years_." He admits, apparently unconcerned – or just too happy to waste time on self-consciousness.

That's settled, then. It's Clarke who changes seat today, standing up and circling the table to sit close to Bellamy's side. She figures study sessions just got a whole lot cuddlier.

…...

It's a good week. Clarke would say it's the best of her life, only she doesn't want to be _that girl_. The kind of girl who lets herself get swept away by excitement and romance, who places her new relationship above her studies and future and basic good sense.

Whatever. It's been the best week of her life, OK?

Bellamy's her best friend as well as her boyfriend, not some stranger she only just met. So she figures it's probably fine that she's in so deep, so soon. That's probably no very surprising consequence of having been so thoroughly besotted with him before they ever even got together.

The week is not perfect, of course. Her father is still dead, her mother still distant. And the term has been a long one, so every time she hangs out with Bellamy late into the evening she's fighting to stay awake. But she's happy nonetheless, an incandescent sort of joy that outshines the imperfections. The problems in her life are still there, it's only that they seem incredibly small compared to her overwhelming happiness.

Bellamy's an even better boyfriend than he was best friend. It's not just that there is kissing, now, nor the way he holds her hand in the halls. It's more that he's become so open with her about his emotions, how strongly he feels for her, how much he wants to take care of her as well as have a laugh with her.

It's a lot, but it's a lot in the best possible way.

…...

Clarke is seriously excited, when the day of the Yule Ball rolls around. But unlike her dormmates, she is excited in a warm, calm sort of a way. Emori on the other hand seems to feeling a more _fizzy_ , nervous sort of excitement, and even Echo looks a little shifty.

"I need to fix my eyebrows." Echo offers now, for the third time inside of an hour.

Clarke snorts. She's had enough of this. Echo is the strongest person she knows, has survived a traumatic childhood raised by Voldemort loyalists. No way does she need to spend this evening worrying about her _eyebrows_ , of all things.

"You look great." Clarke says honestly. Echo really would be her type, were Bellamy not already on the scene. "Hope won't know what's hit her."

"But my -"

"We both know you're not really worried about your eyebrows." Clarke cuts her off, firm but kind. "You know she really likes you. This will be fun, I promise."

"That's what's worrying me. She really does like me, and this should be great. But – but what if I screw up, Clarke? What if I screw up the first purely good thing in my life?"

Emori joins the conversation, then. She crosses the room, wraps an arm somewhat self-consciously around each of her friends. "I've been asking myself that since the day John asked me out."

Clarke shakes her head. She can see why her friends feel the way they feel, and it makes her all the more grateful that she's fallen into this comfortable relationship with Bellamy. But all the same, she thinks there is something in her experience that is relevant to them, too.

"If you like them, and they like you, that's all that matters. No one who genuinely cares about you is going to be put off by one disappointing date or by you twisting your ankle at the Yule Ball."

Silence sits. Echo nods, resolute, and sets down her makeup bag decisively on her bed. Emori smiles determinedly and reaches for her clutch.

It looks like they're ready to go to the ball.

…...

The ball is wonderful.

The music is perfect, just the ideal balance of fast songs and slow songs, old favourites and modern hits. The food is plentiful and delicious, the decor striking but not overdone.

But Bellamy is the highlight, in Clarke's humble opinion. He's wearing a muggle suit, as most of the guys tend to do, these days. He's wearing a broad smile, too, and his cocky humour is out in full force.

It looks like she found that perfect Yule Ball experience after all.

No. That's not quite right. It's better than the naive childish dreams she had, back when she was a fourth year and she first started to notice Bellamy. Back then, she remembers that she thought the occasion would be perfect because Bellamy would make her laugh, and because she would feel special wandering around with the most good-looking person in the room on her arm.

She knows better, now. It's not that Bellamy is making her laugh – rather, they are laughing together. And yeah, sure, he looks seriously hot, but that's not why she can't stop staring at his face. The reason she can't take her eyes off him has far more to do with the soft expression he wears whenever he looks at her. It makes her feel loved, and cherished, and like this might be more than a passing teenage romance.

They dance a lot, as the night wears on, sometimes with friends, sometimes in their own little world. And as the music slows down, they stop truly dancing and start adopting a slow sort of shuffle instead, because that is what couples do.

When the music stops altogether, they stand and look at each other for a moment.

"I'm not ready for this to end." Clarke says, smiling a slightly wistful smile.

"Me neither." Bellamy agrees. "Come on."

With that, he takes her hand. He leads her down a hallway or two, past a suit of armour, and reveals a secret passageway.

"Where are we going?" She asks.

"Trust me."

Well, then. That's that settled. She keeps hold of his hand as they wander down the passageway together. It's fairly even underfoot, and Clarke can just about cope in her formal shoes. It's chilly, though, and getting chillier the further they go.

They emerge into the Hogwarts grounds, overlooking the lake. It's a good view, Clarke thinks. The water is glinting in the moonlight and the whole effect is really rather romantic. Bellamy sits on a large rock, pats the space at his side.

She ignores him, and deposits herself right in his lap.

He laughs a little, tightens his arms around her. "You doing alright?" He asks.

"Just cold." She complains, but she complains _cheerfully_.

"Sorry. I should have given you my jacket by now, right? There's me failing at romance." He jokes, unwrapping her arms from her just long enough to remove his jacket and set it round her shoulders.

"Don't worry, you're doing great." She tells him, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

He doesn't want an affectionate kiss on the cheek, it turns out, as he shifts to catch her lips with his. He wants a full-on snogging session, here on a cold rock overlooking the lake. He's a silly guy, but she's happy to oblige. Kissing him is fast becoming one of her favourite activities. She just wishes they could kiss _inside_ , next time.

He pulls away after a few minutes, leans his cheek against her hair. It's such a little thing, but it makes her feel like she's precious to him. Like he's holding her close for the sheer joy of it, not because he's hoping to let off some hormonal steam.

"Clarke. There's something I want you to know but I don't want to ruin our friendship." He murmurs, lips slightly quirked. "Or this relationship. I know it's too soon but I need to tell you that -"

"Clarke? Bellamy?" That's Wells, clambering over the rocks towards them, evidently overjoyed at bumping into them.

Clarke loves Wells, of course. But at this precise moment she thinks she'd gladly toss him into the lake. She knows exactly what Bellamy was going to say, there, before Wells showed up.

"Wells. Hi. And Gabriel." She greets Wells' date, who is standing behind him looking slightly sheepish.

"We'll be going." Gabriel says smoothly, reaching out to take Wells' hand.

"No we won't." Wells argues. "Not until I've had chance to tease Clarke for wearing Bellamy's stupid jacket. What was that you said about cardigans, huh?"

"My jacket isn't stupid." Bellamy bristles, because of course he has not understood the reference.

"I know. It's lovely. You have great taste." Clarke reassures him through a laugh. "Do you have any cardigans yet?" She asks Wells pointedly.

That hits a nerve. Wells looks slightly nervous, and Gabriel looks puzzled.

"Are you into cardigans?" Gabriel asks. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear one. Do you -"

"Wells would like to borrow a cardigan from you." Clarke says firmly, deciding this ridiculous interruption has gone on quite long enough. "And without meaning to be rude, I would quite like you to leave so Bellamy can get on with telling me he loves me."

"You don't know that's what I was going to say." Bellamy protests, somewhere between nervous and joking.

"Yes I do. We've been best friends for years, Bellamy. I know what you were about to say. And you know I was about to say it straight back, right?"

"I _hoped_." He hedges, jaw tight.

"Of course she was going to say it straight back." Wells says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "She's been wanting you to ask her out for ages, Bellamy. I'm really happy for you two."

Wells is a good best friend like that, Clarke muses. He's a great best friend, in fact. But if he interrupts a romantic moment with Bellamy ever again, she could swear she will scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
